


Louis is sick

by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Hurt Louis, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Just random situations in which this boy is hurt or sick, Sick Character, Sickfic, and some comfort, requests welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:20:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21724405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kat_Of_Dresden/pseuds/ClaraCivry
Summary: You know the drill. Because I love him now, these are oneshots of Louis being hurt or sick.Starts with the knee injury from when he was playing football for charity :)Ep 2 is a fall on the ice, hypothermia, disorientation, fever... All the good stuffEp 3 is flu fluff. Our boy is ill at home and needs someone to look after him :)Ep. 4 Louis collapses on stage
Relationships: Harry Styles & Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 70





	1. Chapter 1

Louis loved playing football. It was something he had done since he was a little kid, something he'd played with friends, that brought memories of free days, laughs with mates... And he wasn't all that bad either, even if he said so himself. 

  
So when he got the chance to play a match for charity, he took it without hesitation. Some people mocked him, were condescending, said that a popstar was going to hold the team back. Sure, what was important was that they made money for the cause, and Louis was definitely going to bring a good amount of people, but he wanted to prove that he was more than that, that he wasn't just a singer who couldn't do anything else.   
  
Just because he could sing didn't mean that he couldn't be a good football player too. There were many sides to him. So Louis put his game face on and did the best he could - which was working, and did work, he played just as good as the others. For a while.  
  
He had the ball when he was suddenly brutally tackled by another player, thrown around like a sack of potatoes, wind knocked out of his lungs, colliding hard with the ground under him. This was supposed to be a regular thing in football, the tackles and the people ending up on the floor, but Louis could tell from the beginning that something was wrong. It had been too hard, too fast, too strong, too much.  
  
Something broke inside of him. This much was clear, as he stayed on the floor, holding himself, eyes tightly shut. He was trying to recover his breath, focus beyond the pain. But the pain was really bad. His whole side was throbbing, his knee and surrounding area were on fire and his chest... Something was not working properly there too. It hurt, it hurt too much and no matter how tightly his eyes were shut, Louis could feel the entire world under him shaking. It was really bad.  
  
He opened his eyes and tried to breathe. Right. He was in a stadium, full of people, full of cameras. He couldn't just stay on the ground, fucking cry because he'd been really hurt. No. He could... He could do this, he would do this, he had to do this. He was better than this.  
  
He managed to sit up, even if everything hurt and breathing felt like an awful chore. His body complained at the sudden movement, made everything blurry and a wave of nausea flare up, but he managed to look in front of him. Someone was offering their hand, but he declined. He could do this. He definitely could.  
  
He could get up, and he did get up, but he absolutely couldn't continue playing. His knee was killing him and it was going to be hard to simply make it to the sidelines. Fuck, he was dizzy. Fuck, had it hurt. He motioned at the responsible people that he couldn't continue, and said goodbye to the audience as they applauded. He had to make it out, and fast, but his leg wasn't cooperating. So he just limped.  
  
His entire innards were in pain, his side was screaming at him, he was feeling incredibly nauseous but he had to make it out. He barely noticed the player who tackled him patting him and kissing his hair. Barely noticed the uproar when it was told that he would be substituted. He just needed... To get away.  
  
Someplace, where he wouldn't be so dizzy. Someplace where he could be hurt and close his eyes and let the world spin around him as much as it wanted. But the distance was too long, his leg was throbbing, and his body decided that he was going to be sick here and now.  
  
People kept coming at him, asking for high fives, worrying.... And it got too much. Before he could realise it, Louis was throwing up right there on the grass. It came out without him barely realising and he ended up puking on his hand. Damn. That had been disgusting and he needed a moment to think, to pause, to... Retrieve himself. Fuck.   
  
All the cameras had probably filmed that, him throwing up from pain. This was bullshit. Before he could even register it, someone took him to the hallway, away from the cameras and the people, the noise. And then it happened again, and just seconds after getting away from the cameras he was violently sick again. Throwing up on the damn floor of the hallway, feeling all that pain catch up to him after the little adrenaline rush with which he'd managed to get himself off the field.  
  
Fuck, it hurt. His knee hurt the worst, but all his side was quite roughed up. It hurt. It hurt so much that it had actually upset his stomach, made all of him be dizzy.  
  
"It's okay, hey, it's okay."  
  
Oh shit. He'd heard that one of the boys may come to watch, but that they would be hidden, to avoid any fan avalanches. And apparently Harry had been there, in just that hallway, front row to watch him puke.  
  
Still, apart from the shame, it was nice to have someone he knew and trusted in this shittiest of shitty moments.  
  
"You doing good?" Harry asked, as somebody (God, why was it so hard to focus) led them to what Louis figured out was the infirmary.  
  
Louis just shook his head, managed to look at his friend, saw the concern.  
  
"I mean... m sure it's notin' but... I feel so bad. I let everybody down. An' me breath tastes like throw up."  
  
Harry snorted, let out a little laugh. They sat on a bench while the in-site doctor was called and Harry told him  
  
"You didn't let anyone down. You just got hurt, which is a very common thing in football."  
  
Still, Louis felt broken up. Physically and emotionally. He felt like a let down, even though it wasn't at all his fault. He'd been excited about this game, very much, and now he wasn't even going to be able to finish it. A little tackle had sent him to the floor, broken him. Maybe the mean voices had been right when they said that a popstar had no place in a football match.   
  
He was feeling really crestfallen, apart from the pain, that hadn't subsided in the slightest. Harry was having none of that.   
  
"Do not dare feel bad about this. You went out there, you did your part, and when you got hurt you walked it off like a champ."  
  
"Harry, I threw up the moment I was out of the field."  
  
"After walking it off like a champ. Which gives more merit to it, since you were feeling so bad."  
  
The doctor came in and after a quick examination put some ice on his knee. It hurt like hell, but it was also a relief. Louis held it in place, trying to get back to himself. His head had felt quite off too.  
  
But it was getting better.  
  
He sighed.  
  
"Hey, none of that, all right? I know you feel upset, but it wasn't your fault. You just do as the doctors tell you and take whatever time you need to rest. There will be more matches. You can do it next time."  
  
Louis sighed and held the ice pack in place. Yeah, these things happened and feeling bad didn't change anything. He'd done his best and got hurt and nothing could change that fact.   
  
The pain was quite bad, but he could manage. The disappointment was there, but it would pass.   
  
He had friends, he had the fans...   
  
Yeah, he'd made a mess and thrown up after the just one tackle... But there would be other matches, other concerts... And hopefully he wouldn't get hurt in all of them.   
  
Hopefully. 


	2. Chapter 2

He looked around him, as he opened his eyes. The floor was wrong, not where it was supposed to be. Because the floor wasn’t all the way down. The floor was just right under him.

Louis couldn’t think properly, pain and disorientation making it near impossible to think. It was cold, it was freezing and he was on the floor, unable to move. His head hurt, his chest… Well, it was hell. Every time he tried to take in a breath pain flared up and spread all through him. Fuck. Very much fuck.

Every attempt at movement brought new horrors, but Louis knew that he couldn’t stay there forever, on the floor, when it was probably somewhere below zero outside. He hadn’t been feeling all that well so he’d decided to leave the apartment they had rented and go the hotel where he was supposed to be through the alley and they million stairs: a small path that was not often used because it took longer to get anywhere, but would help him not run into anyone. He hadn’t wanted to see anyone, or be seen.

Now he would give anything to be seen, be heard.

He slipped. He was walking too fast, thinking about something else and he slipped on the ice, and fell down some stairs. Lost consciousness for a bit, apparently, and when he came to the world was not where it was supposed to be, and it hurt to exist. Maybe he had broken something. Maybe he hadn’t. Snow was starting to fall now, fall on him.

It was very cold and the pain was letting up. He hurt, and his eyes were tearing. He tried t move, tried to get up, but only managed to bring fresh tears to his face.

_Hurt. Cold. Pain_

Feeling that he was about to lose himself and what few lucidity he had, he used the last of his energy to fish out his phone and call the last person he’d been speaking with.

*

“Lou, babe, I told you not to call, you’ll ruin my concentration…”

And yes, it ruined his concentration but not in the way Harry had been expecting. Because it wasn’t a cheeky joke, a suggestive comment, nothing like that. No. What Louis said, only two words… Was horrible.

“Ha…rry. Help.”

And then the line went dead and Harry felt his heart stopping. Louis had spoken with only a thread of a voice, Louis had sounded… Wrong, raw, barely there. Maybe he’d been attacked, maybe he’d been injured, maybe… The only thing that was clear was that he needed help, and Harry couldn’t provide it because he was an hour away at some stupid secret show. Damn it.

“We’re ready…..”

“They’ll have to wait!” He screamed, trying to think.

He called back the number, but there was no answer. He called the apartment - no answer there either. After some dealings, he managed to get the number of the apartment next to the one they had, who had an emergency key. Louis wasn’t inside. Fuck.

What about around there? Harry begged the neighbour to look for Louis, look in the streets surrounding the place, and especially in that alley that Harry hated but Louis often used because it was “calmer” while they were staying there, and begged the neighbour to stay on the line.

That’s how Harry heard their neighbour swear in her native language, and start running, despite the ice on the floor and the snow.

“Hurt, fall on the ice.” She said, with an accented voice. “Calling ambulance, will send you hospital information.”

And Harry felt that his heart had fallen too. That his heart was broken.

*

It’s all a haze.

_Hurt. Cold. Pain_

The eyes opened the eyes closed. Every time they opened it’s cold and colder, every time they opened it hurt more.

_Hurt. Cold. Pain_

He wanted to cry, badly, but couldn’t find the strength to do so, the energy, anything. It was so cold and he hurt so much. It seemed that the entire world was out there to hurt him, that everything was wrong. The floor was not where it was supposed to be, his head hurt very much, his chest was on fire, and he…. He was slowly losing himself on that sidewalk.

There was a trail of blood, but he didn’t manage to perceive it. Seeing things, looking at them, was becoming harder and harder.

_Hurt. Cold. Pain_

There was a voice, but Louis didn’t know it. It tried to move him, but touched a bad spot and Louis whimpered and there was wild flame of fire inside him and the he last thing he knew was that the world hurt him. Again.

_Hurt. Cold. Pain_

It was colder when he woke up to hands on him, to more pain, to people moving him. It was agony, it was excruciating. Louis wanted them to stop, to leave him alone, to stop hurting him, so he put his hands up, and fought them, fought them soft voices, fought the plastic in his face, but to no avail. They kept moving him and they kept putting things.

There was a little sob. He didn’t know where he was, the floor was wrong, his head hurt and there was plastic in his mouth.

Doors closed and there was a loud sound, very loud and the world moved. The plastic in his face was somehow helping him breathe. He closed his eyes.

*

“How is he?”

Harry said, after having rushed to the hospital, only able to perform three songs on the show before having to speed here. He knew that he couldn’t do anything while Louis was taken to the hospital, while Doctors were checking his injuries. But he needed to be there.

The face of the neighbour (Milena? Yelena? Who knew) greeted him and it didn’t look too… Reassuring.

“He was… Falling unconscious, all time. Didn’t know where he was, could not keep eyes open. Fight with paramedics to put on oxygen mask. Cried. Doctor didn’t let anyone yet.”

It was distressing to hear, but at least doctors were with him.

“Thank you for everything.”

The neighbour excused herself to go back to her family, but asked to be informed. And then Harry was alone, in a hospital lobby in a foreign country, just having being told that his better half had been so disoriented that he’d cried and fought paramedics when they were trying to give him oxygen. Fuck.

It was an eternal thirty five minutes until he was updated on Louis. He had bad hypothermia, a broken rib and some serious bruising on his chest, stomach and legs (it had been a really bad fall) there was nothing too serious.

“We were a bit concerned about he disorientation, but he seems to be coming back nicely. Sadly, it seems that he had some infection before falling and this exposure to the cold haven’t helped, at all, so we’ll have to keep an eye on his fever, see how he progresses, but we should be able to keep it under control. You can go see him now.”

And wasn’t that just what Harry had been wanting to hear for the last few hours.

Louis seemed smaller in that white bed, more fragile. He was very pale and there were bruises along his left arm. Nevertheless, he smiled.

“Harry.”

He was by his side, next to him, in about two seconds, fast as lightning.

“Lou, hey, love, how are you feeling?”

“... Not too good.”

“Yeah. I heard it was quite a fall.”

“.… Your concert?”

“You’re more important than that, ok? You being whole and all right is the single most important thing for me. I nearly had a heart attack when I got your call.”

“I called? Uhmm. ‘nd you came.”

“I always will.”

“ `Twas…. So cold. I was afraid that I was gonn’ die there.”

“But now you are in a nice warm bed, and you have medicine and central heating and people looking after you. And you have me. I’m not leaving.”

Louis smiled, but then grimaced.

“It hurts when I breathe.”

And Harry wanted to cry because really what could he do about that? Louis couldn’t stop breathing and they already given him all the pain medication that was safe. He took off his shoes, crawled behind Louis’ less hurt side, planted a kiss on his neck and just…. Hugged him, careful not to jostle his injuries, but bringing him all his warmth.

“Why don’t I sing you a song, huh?”

Louis fell back asleep shortly after, exhausted after that whole ordeal.

Harry held on to him, trying to calm down the tremors, trying to reassure him that he was out of the cold, out of the pain, out of the hurt.

_“I got you, babe, I got you….”_

He fell asleep to his own lullaby.

And was awoken a few hours later to frantic moving around in bed.

Louis voice was small, broken, and his breathing sounded awful.

“... don’t …. don’t hurt…. me …. Don’t hurt me, please, don’t… don’t…”

No, no, no, no! Louis had to be okay, he was in a hospital, being given medication, all of that! As it turned out, his fever was spiking (as it tends to do at night) which had brought all of that… Unpleasantness. The doctor said that he should be fine by morning, and to try and make him comfortable through the worst parts of it.

So Harry stayed there, behind him, hushing him and singing to him and caressing his overheated face, wiping the wayward tears, drowning him in blankets when he shivered. He spent the rest of the night awake, trying to make everything better, trying to… Well, to help him heal as much as he could.

When the next morning came, Harry had changed his position on the bed, and was now facing Louis, laying in front of him. Drinking in the sight of each of his features. If he hadn’t managed to call… If they hadn’t realised he was missing, if he’d stayed there, under the snow, for too long… But no. Louis was still there, and he was going to get better. And in the meantime, Harry would remember to count his blessings for still having someone so beautiful and talented, and absolutely important by his side.

Blue eyes opened, and this time they stayed open. Harry was almost in tears, he was so fucking happy.

“How are you, love? Still cold?”

Louis drew a half smile, finally knowing where he was and who was there with him. At peace. Warm. The cold a seemingly distant memory.

“Not cold. Not anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by justpoisonous on tumblr! You can leave requests there too I'm claracivry :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requested by Larry4eva2019

Louis was fighting it, valiantly.

He wanted to call Harry so very bad, tell him to come, to help him, care for him, kiss him better. Sure, he could call other people who weren't that busy to keep him company, but no one else would do. He needed Harry, he was the only that would help, the only one that would make a difference. No one else would do, no one else would make him feel better.

Because as of right now, Louis was feeling like absolute crap. His head was throbbing, he felt absurdly cold even though he was huddled in sweaters and blankets, and felt too sick to move much. And there was nothing on telly. The minutes passed too slow, way too slow.

Harry would make it better, he knew. He would make him some tea so he wouldn't feel cold for at least a moment, he would distract him with stories or with whatever was on his mind, or simply be there with him to comment on how bad telly was. He missed him, even though they had seen each other that very morning.

But he shouldn't cave. Louis was a grown man, and this was only a fly. He could take care of himself and Harry didn't have to miss work or be worried over a stupid flu. So Louis would just be strong (albeit miserable) and let Harry go on his important business, without taking so much of his time. He could do this.

Although he wished he wasn't that strong when he felt way too nauseous and vomited all his meager breakfast on the toilet. He wished for soothing words, for rubbing on his back and maybe caresses on his overheated cheeks. He wished that he would stop feeling this bad awful and after he washed his mouth and climbed down under the blankets a line tear fell down his cheek.

And then the phone vibrated next to him. Harry. Fuck. He'd managed not to call him, but if he was calling...

"How's my sweetheart doing? Are you feeling any better?"

And Louis wasn't going to lie, was he?

"Really cold. Won' stop shivering."

"My poor darling. It's already two, have you had any lunch? I left you soup."

"Can't. Threw up breakfast. Me stomach is all complainy and wrong."

"I'm coming over."

"You don't have to."

"Sure I do."

Louis smiled to himself. He'd been strong and hadn't bothered Harry, but he was coming anyway. Because he had chosen to, it had been his decision. It had all turned out for the best, and he fell asleep again with a little smile, suddenly happier.

Harry wasn't happy at all. Harry felt like a crap boyfriend, letting Louis be alone when he was that sick. Yeah, it was just the flu, and the flu was something that one could take care on their own, but Louis had been really feverish and now he couldn't stop shivering, so the fever was probably worse. And he'd been throwing up, feeling like shit, alone.

Harry was worried about the state Louis would be in when he came back, he'd sounded so bad on the phone... And when he arrived there... He only worried more.

"Louis, love? I'm home!" 

Louis was made a ball on his bed, covered by blankets but still shivering. Harry put a hand on his boyfriend's forehead and got even more worried.

"You're burning up, hun. Why didn't you call earlier?"

Louis wasn't really aware of where he was or what time it was. Wasn't aware of anything but the cool hand in his forehead and the familiar voice.

".... 'rry? Don' feel so good."

Harry felt his heart break into a million little pieces. His little ray of sunshine was not feeling good, and this was a situation that required his full attention. Fuck work, fuck stardom and his way up the show business. Louis was ill, and this was more important than anything else in the universe.

Louis was pretty out of it, but let Harry's gentle voice and body look after him. Purred when there was a cold compress in his brow (so calming). Managed to drink some tea with pills. And then, after a while, even managed to make it to the sofa.

"How are you doing now, darling? A bit better?" 

Louis made a small noise, like a whimper and motioned for Harry to come to him. He would feel better once they were together on thst couch. That was what he needed. 

Harry looked at his boyfriend, pale but with his cheeks flushed, wearing only a Grey sweater on top of old pyjamas, hair plastered to his brow and neck with sweat, the nose still a bit red... How did he manage to still be the most wonderful creature in creation? Harry didn't hesitate and jumped on the couch beside his lover. 

Day time TV was terrible, but they didn't care. Louis was comfortably snuggled against Harry, his overheated head in his boyfriend's neck and shoulder. Harry kept kissing him and humming songs and holding himself tight, despite the risk of contagion. Louis couldn't seem to mind. He was feeling still absolutely miserable, but with Harry next to him, distracting him from the pain, helping him when he felt nauseous, just being there, cuddling with him on the sofa and under those three blankets....

Well, that was indeed the best medicine in the world. 


	4. Chapter 4

He had been feeling off and light-headed the whole day, but there was really no point in saying that, was there? They all had their highs and lows and there was not much use complaining. Also, this was not something serious like an injury, or a flu, not even a headache. He just felt a bit faint, that was all. Nothing too worrisome.

And Louis was sure that the moment he stepped into that stage he would feel energized again, happy and able to go on normally. The singing and the dancing would distract him of how wrong he felt, and come the end the show it would be forever forgotten. That had been what he hoped.

No one noticed anything. Louis was a tad more quiet than other times, but honesty, sometimes it could be a relief. And they were so focused on the parts they had to do, the dances, the order of the song, all the little things that were what made a good show… Despite having done this for many years now, they still needed to rehearse, to learn, to be focused.

Louis couldn’t focus much, though. The world was seemingly very far away from him, too loud and the sounds at the same time blurred. He was having a hard time simply remembering where he was, why he was there. He took support on one of the walls, closed his eyes, tried to make everything happen more. No one noticed. Everyone was very busy, everyone was nervous, Louis understood even if it hurt a bit. They all their own issues, their own rituals before a concert. It was okay.

Until it wasn’t.

Suddenly it was time to come out to stage and the world tilted. He thought he was better, he thought he could do this, but... It was getting Louis said hi to the crowds, although they seemed more blurry than usual. Still, he smiled, he went on his position, he sang. Yes, maybe he was less playful than some other times and he was talking less but he was still singing and greeting people. He was as expected. No one noticed.

We all had better days and worse days, and today the crowds of fans were wild. It was still difficult to comprehend, sometimes, just how many people they could make happy with their music. And sometimes they got a bit lot on it, see beyond the fans and their admiration. Notice each other.

It was after one of his few solo parts when Louis started feeling even worse. It was… It was as if the world was getting distant. His throat closed up and his legs were shaking. He thought about getting out of the stage, about going back to rest… But didn’t make it.

His knees buckled and fell on his side, boneless. This time people did notice.

First it was the fans. Louis had some very die hard fans who just spent the whole concert looking at him, so even when he wasn’t singing they were looking his way - and they saw quite clearly what just happened. Saw him blinking one too many times. Saw his knees giving way. Screamed at the others, to get him, or he could hurt his head. They screamed and pointed, because somehow they knew this wasn’t part of the show.

The guys looked at whatever the fans were pointing at and…

“FUCK!”

They weren’t supposed to say curses, but damn, Louis was unconscious and on the floor and this was so not good. Harry arrived first and knelt beside him, tapping his cheek. The music kept playing, but there was no one singing, Niall and Liam appearing just behind Harry, to try and see what was happening.

“Is he ok?” Someone in the audience asked.

“My mum is a doctor, if you need her.” Another voice said.

“Check for fever, he didn’t look too good when he came in.”

It was…. Nice, in a way, in the middle of that hell. Instead of complaining about the music having stopped they were worried. Hoping that their beloved singer would be okay. If they weren’t so worried about Louis being lifeless and limp on the floor of the stage...

“He’s quite warm.” Harry threw at the audience, feeling a bit lost. Louis was unconscious and feverish and the music had stopped but was still blasting in their ears. And he didn’t know what to do about it, and the other guys didn’t either.

“Check his airways.” Someone else said, an adult clearly (hey, they had fans of all ages, ok?) “Is he breathing properly?”

“It’s very faint!” Harry threw at the audience. Hell, he could barely hear the breathing. This was beginning to get really scary, how didn’t he see how pale Louis was? How quiet. Why did he just accept it now Louis...Well, he seemed to be seriously ill, and he’d been performing. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Did he hurt his head while falling, are there any injuries?” Another voice.

“I don’t think so!”

Harry focused and gathered his friend in his arms, with Liam and Niall’s help. Taking him on a bridal carry he disappeared behind the stage with a heavy heart. They should have noticed.

“Is he going to be okay?” A young voice said from the audience.

“Please tell us when you know something about him, ok?” A girl with a Louis sign said, looking totally broken hearted.

“But Harry can come back, right?” Someone else yelled, and there was a chorus of agreements and disagreements.

“No! Louis doesn’t have anyone here, his family is in another country! You want him to have to be alone on top of being sick? You want him to wake up in some strange hospital?”

There were some voices agreeing. Although losing both of them seemed terrible, the idea that one of their beloved boys would wake up alone in a place they didn’t know, sick and perhaps thinking himself forgotten....

“He should stay with Louis, yeah. Just tell him to tweet it when he wakes up.”

Management was being a bitch. They were practically forcing their in-site doctor to forcefully wake Louis up and send him back on stage and were practically shoving Harry back on stage. But he wanted to stay, at least until Louis opened his eyes, at least until they told him what was happening. Still, their managers wouldn’t have that.

Harry came back with a heavy heart, to a lot of expectant faces.

“How is he?”

“Did he wake up?”

Harry shook his head, nearly tearing up.

“Not yet. I’m sure that he’d be… touched that you care so much.”

“Did you call an ambulance?”

“We did.” Harry said, trying to minimize the lump in his throat. “It should be here in a couple of minutes.”

“Don’t you wanna ride with him?”

“I do! But all of you came to see this concert…”

“You should go.” Another voice said, from the front row. “We can watch you guys some other time. Louis shouldn’t be alone.”

“Just keep us updated! Send him our love!”

“GET BETTER SOON, LOUIS!” Someone screamed at the top of their lungs.

When Louis woke up in the ambulance, he felt like crap. He was cold and he didn’t know where, his entire body was being jostled, there were voice, unknown voices around him… But also familiar eyes, looking at him.

Harry’s tweet of “HE WOKE UP!” was one of the most retweeted in the history of the band.

Sometimes he felt like the lesser member, the forgotten one, the least important one.

But so many people cared about him. Harry, Liam, Niall, and a million of strangers and strangers’ mum’s and entire families.

Even when he was thousands of miles from home, he wasn’t alone.

He was looked after. Cared for. Protected.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added some sick Niall in this ep :)

The world was spinning wildly, even when he had his eyes closed and was firmly eating the sheets and holding the bed tightly. After so much time spent in the tour bus, Louis didn't get car sick any more, but still... This was their last bit of tour bus before going to where they were going to record some more songs (b sides and such) before their next leg of tour. And Louis was really feeling like shit. 

He hadn't eaten anything at all since breakfast the previous day and the world refused to stop spinning and spinning, making feel that he was about to hurl every two minutes. Fuck. He hated being sick, hated it so much, hated it with a passion. How on earth had this happened? 

Oh. Oh! 

Niall had been feeling poorly and he'd stayed with him last evening, trying to distract the lad, crack some jokes and watch some nonsense so he wouldn't feel so miserable. Offer some comfort as he threw up, because he got a bad stomach bug. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

The bus took a sharp turn and threw Louis' body for a loop. Shit shit shit he had caught whatever Niall got and got it real badddd. 

There was too much saliva in his mouth, his head was pulsating and Louis wanted to curse every virus and every bacteria in the entire world, hell, the entire universe. He was feeling so poorly, so miserable, and the bus ride was only making him feel even worse. His belly felt all kinds of wrong, he couldn't stop swallowing, and.... His head. 

He felt so dizzy, so light headed. He was lying down, and yet, even in the dark the entire world around him was spinning. His entire body was... Just so uncomfortable, so gross, so bad. He stayed like that for some time, until the bus stopped and he felt something making its way up his body. Shit. Shit shit shit shit. 

Some part of your body, and some part of your mind often fooled itself into believing that you would feel better once you got it out. That the discomfort would pass, that the feeling in your stonach of being in a little boat inside a fucking sea tempest would pass, dissipate. It wasn't the case. You only wanted to vomit more, and now you tasted so gross it only made the nausea worse. The smell from the toilet bowl came to Louis and he was sick again. Ugh. 

"No" a familiar voice behind him said. "No no no no. I got you sick?" 

There was Niall, looking like a ghost, pale and wan and sweaty, dark shadows under his eyes. He'd been battling this severe stomach flu for the last three days, and he was now feeling like he was barely there. Spent, weak and floating around through the bus, after days and nights of alternatively not being able to sleep at all or sleeping for way too many hours. 

The disease had coursed though him like water through a boulder, slowly, gradually, little by little. He hadn't eaten anything solid in like five days, surviving on sport drinks, soda and water. Hadn't wanted to do much with the guys besides work, to avoid making anyone else sick, which had left him feeling lonely on top of ill, which made matters worse. 

But Louis had insisted on spending the evening with him, saying the others had bored him and Niall had allowed him, because hell, he could use with some company and his friend was insistent. And some part of him had been hopeful, that after so many days the illness would be gone, that Louis' defenses would be strong, that he wouldn't be so contagious any more. But if course not. Of course Louis had taken ill too. 

"I'm so sorry."

"Is no' your faul' Ni"

"Kind of is."

"You warned me tha' I could get sick. Is my faul' I didn't listen."

The problem now was that they were supposed to record some audio bits and a couple of other songs for the next promo events and such, and they had already put it off for a couple of days, and had been told that today it was mandatory they record...

So they more or less showered, put on some thankfully non sweated clothes and stood, wobbly, on the entrance of the studio.

But it wasn't good enough, was it.

"I will not risk everyone getting infected." someone from management said. "We can do this without those two."

And huh, that kind of hurt even more than their pounding heads. The fact that they were so disposable, so unneeded.

"Get them a hospital room, some soup or something. We'll pick them up after work."

The others seemed to want to say something, but didn't know how to word their discomfort.

"We'll be back soon, guys." Harry said, a sorrowful look in his eye.

The people in management also thought that Niall and Louis could look after each other, so sent no one to be with them. That... That wasn't necessarily true, the not needing anyone part. Because as much they had every intention of looking after each other, the truth was that things had become more serious than they seemed to be.

*

"I'm worried about the others." Harry said, still remembering Louis wobbly stance and Niall's pale face. "I thought it would be just a couple of hours, and we've been here all day."

"It's just a few hours, Harry, and it's just the stomach flu. What's the worst that can happen? 

*

Louis' fever had escalated had escalated dangerously in those few hours, and was now bordering delirium. It had been there when the others left, just not too severe. The slight flush in his cheeks had become an excessive redness, and Louis was shivering under the sheets, after having puked another three times. He was feeling like he'd gone from mildly miserable to downright dying, and part of him knew that getting so sick so soon was not probably not good. 

The rest of him was just confused, lost in haze, and in pain and in cold, bothered by the light, and the sound and life in general. He just wanted to stop being cold and he wanted his head to stop trying to kill him. He was covered in sweat and breathing heavily and wondering how did everything become so bad so quickly. And then he stopped being able to form coherent thoughts. 

Cold. Pain. Vomit. So cold. Hurt. Stomach hurt. Head hurt. 

Niall was trying to do his best to look after his friend, but it wasn't working, nothing was working. He tried to get him some water, but Louis took half a sip and was done. He tried wetting little towels to put on his brow but it didn't seem to offer any relief, and Louis kept shivering and moaning and Niall really didn't know what else he could do. 

Just wait until his fever broke? That was the only thing he could do, wait? This felt so wrong. Niall was sat on the edge of the bed where his friend lay, tv off not to hurt him, wanting to cry. Louis was sick because of him, he had made him this way and it was... It was painful. Louis had just wanted to be a good friend and now he was paying for it and Niall didn't even know how to fix it, how to look after him properly. 

Maybe if his head wasn't so... Wrong. He felt so impossibly weak and his head was complaining constantly. It had been just a mild ache in the beginning but now he couldn't move without feeling incredibly light headed. He should be drinking, he knew, but even water seemed like a chore and something that would bring up more pain. He couldn't do it. Couldn't. 

When a couple of hours later, he noted that Louis was still burning up, he decided to call reception, ask for a doctor, something. 

He didn't make it to the phone. 

*

Harry was biting his nails on a waiting room. He knew they should have gone to check on the guys sooner, he knew that "they can look after each other" wasn't good enough, he knew that somebody should have been there with them... Now they were in the waiting room of a damn hospital because two of his best friends had been seriously ill. He should have been more adamant, should have insisted more on checking in them. 

A doctor came their way and Harry looked with a question in his eyes "how are they how are they how are they". 

"Well, there's nothing life-threatening but we'll still want them to stay here the night. Mr. Tomlinson fever reached 40.5 degrees and if it had been unattended it could have caused brain damage, you're lucky you found him when you did. Same goes for Mr. Horan who was nearing hypovolemic shock when he arrived... 

"I thought that was you lost blood?" 

"When you lose a good percentage of body fluid. Blood loss is the common path, but when someone is vomiting and sweating profusely for too long it can happen as well."

Harry was feeling his heart falling to his feet. 

"How did they get so sick?" 

"There's been a specially aggressive strain of gastroenteritis floating around, these last couple of weeks. They aren't the only ones."

Harry sighed. 

"They told me not to worry, that stomach flu wasn't that bad.... Can I see them?" 

"Of course."

They had put both of them in a room, to avoid leaks and press, stuff like that. And there they were, with those awful heart monitor machines. Niall was hooked up to two different IVs, Louis was still flushed and sweating but recognized him, which was good. 

Harry wanted to cry, painfully realising that all that he had, that wonderful life with the success and the music and.... It could all go to hell in one day. His friends had just been feeling unwell when he left, and now... 

"How are you feeling?" 

"Ha' better days. But no so cold anymore. That's good."

"Yeah, it is. I'm going to make sure that you guys are always looked after if you get sick, ok? This will not be repeated. And if management says that it's not so bad then I will bathe myself in your coughs and germs too, so I can stay with you."

Louis' blue eyes were shining, a faint smile on that sweet face.

" Such a drama queen."

Harry smiled, checked on Niall and left to allow them to sleep, while silently bowing to never let anything like this ever again. And maybe trying to think of something nice to welcome the boys back when they were released from the hospital. 

That same night, some hours later and feeling a bit better (not great, but a bit), Louis woke up to the sound of someone crying. It took him a while to get what was going on, but... 

"Ni? You a'ight there?" 

There was no reply, only some more muffled sobbing and Louis decided to get rid of any gadgets and walk to his friend's bed. 

"What is it?" 

Niall's still pale face was crossed with tears and the mere sight made Louis' heart ache. 

"Hey, what is it?" 

"I got you sick. I got you so sick you're in hospital now and I couldn't even... Couldn't even look after you, when you're always so nice..."

"Hey, none of tha'. You were ill too, shouldn't be puttin' tha'weight on your shoulders. You did good Ni, you did all you could, and that's what matters, yeah? And I'm kinda enkoyin' the bed rest... The loopy doopy drugs... This so fashionable outfits they've given us... "

Niall smiled. Louis, always joking, always helping people who were feeling down. Even now. 

" But you were quite bad yrself and didn't say, Ni. Please say, and complain. Those tyrants in management may not care, bu' we do. I do."

"Thanks, Lou."

"Always"

When Louis went back to bed, the entire world wasn't spinning.

He breathed into his pillow., closed his eyes. 

The world would continue to be there, and they would be in them. 

No matter who did or didn't care.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank for reading! Requests welcome!!
> 
> You know you want to comment!


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